


The Spider's Heir

by dragonpyre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Original Character-centric, Pansexual Character, Peter Parker and MJ are married, Tony Stark has a kid, civil war never happened, it's more comic-canon based with heavy movie canon too, spider-man is in the Avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonpyre/pseuds/dragonpyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elaina Parker thought she was having a relatively good day until she came home to find out that her father had died. And it just had to be Captain America who told her. Better yet, he was none other than the famous web-slinger Spider-man. With his death brings a hole in the city that needs to be filled. Spider-man’s gone and that leaves the Avengers one man down and the city one spider short. Soon she finds out his death wasn't an accident and seeks revenge on whoever killed while also picking up the mantle her father left behind. Will Elaina ever be able to fill his shoes and save New York? Or will she become the very thing heroes like her dad died to stop?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Life In A Nutshell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first Marvel fic! if there are any tags you think i missed, please tell me, and that goes for triggers too. So this fic is set in a slight alternate future of the MCU where Civil War never happened. If you have any creative criticism, please leave it in the comments (but don't be rude, just like, point out grammar or spelling mistakes). And without further adieu, enjoy!

Hi, my name is Elaina, I’m sixteen, and my life is, to put it bluntly, a mess. I know what you’re thinking, wow that’s so cliché, and totally worthy of a YA novel. I mean, you wouldn’t be totally wrong. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less true. It didn’t always used to be this way though, my family was actually pretty cool. Well, my dad was always pulling overtime at the office, and my mom wasn’t what you’d call an average house wife. She had a job too so she was out of the house a lot as well. So that left me on my own for a great deal of my childhood.

Of course, we were still a tight knit family, even though everyone was out of the house more frequently as I grew older. My mom seemed to realize that I could take care of myself around age thirteen and started going out to apply for jobs, and eventually got a spot in a fashion company. And of course my dad worked for some big science place in midtown. Made great money doing it too. But my life still ended up becoming crazy. And I guess I’ll tell you how.

  
BEEP. BEEP.

My alarm clock buzzed annoyingly next to my ear, practically deafening me. I moaned and grumbled as I lifted my head from the tangle of sheets it was buried in. I squinted my eyes against the harsh October morning sunlight, my vision bleary from lethargy.

I stared at the numbers glowing green on the clock’s screen. 7:00 A.M. Whoop-dee-do. I pressed the snooze button lazily, letting my arm fall to my side after doing so. I waited until I couldn’t handle the stress of sleeping in anymore and got up, still tired. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. Well, I could only fully achieve that with coffee, speaking of which…

“Elaina!” I heard my dad call from down the hall. I moaned as I realized he was home. Normally he would be off to work by now. He worked long hours, don’t know where, and I never asked because he was always so tight-lipped about it. “You’re going to be late, c’mon!” I mentally groaned as I stood up and stretched, letting my taught muscles loosen.

“Coming!” I yelled back tiredly. I walked over to my dresser, picking out a shirt at random and pulling it over my head after tearing my night shirt off. I slipped into skinny jeans and socks, not caring that they weren’t matching, and then walked out of my room and into the bathroom down the hall.

I lived in a nice apartment in Queens, spacey, warm, and cozy. The floor changed from rough carpet to cold linoleum as I entered the bathroom. I closed the door lightly behind me, hearing it click shut. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed for my toothpaste, fumbling blindly for floss as well. After brushing, flossing and relieving myself, I was ready for breakfast.

“Morning Mom, Dad,” I said, sliding down the hallway and swooping into the kitchen. I walked gracefully over to the toaster, where my dad had set pop tarts into. I waited for them to pop up before grabbing the pastries, still hot, and putting them on the plate I had grabbed.

“Morning Elaina,” my dad said casually, reading a newspaper (or attempting to appear like he was) while eating milk sodden cereal.

“Morning Elaina,” my mom repeated him. It was a very monotonous routine we performed every morning, but as weird as it sounds now, we had a very tight bond. I being an only child, my dad working all the time, and my mom always designing stuff or something, it would appear that we wouldn’t be, but we had a great relationship.

“So what’s the game plan for today?” I asked, taking a bite of my pop-tart.

“I have a presentation tonight so I won’t be home ‘till late,” my mom said, brushing her red hair behind an ear. Unlike mine, which is an auburn red/brown. A perfect mix of my parent’s hair colors. “So you’ll probably order takeout,” she predicted. I hid my blush poorly seeing as my dad snickered. He acted like a child sometimes, even though he was thirty-seven.

“And I’m working late tonight as well,” he said, lifting another spoonful of soggy bran to his mouth. I made a face and took a bite of my toaster pastry.

“You’re always working late,” I complained in a fake-whiny voice. It was true; I hardly ever saw him after the sun went down. He always made up an excuse though, he had deadlines to meet, meetings to attend, that sort of thing. I had told him that family was more important once, but he only gave me a sad smile and told me that I wouldn’t understand.

“I have an obligation of work Elaina,” he explained, making eye contact with me. I raised an eyebrow skeptically, but shrugged it off.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself, finishing up my breakfast and walking over to the coat rack to grab my coat. I pulled my leather jacket down off the rack and scooted my boots closer using my feet. I tugged them on whilst standing, almost losing my balance.

“Make sure you call to let me know if you’ve changed your plans at all!” My mom called after me as I grabbed my satchel.

“Ok!” I called back, shutting the door behind me. “Love you Mom, love you Dad!” I called just as I shut the door. I heard their replies of “Love you too” just before the door shut. Now I had a whole 12 hours to myself, and of course my friend Eva, whom I’ve known since elementary school. Maybe I would go over to her house later and watch Sherlock reruns, or Dr. Who, It really didn’t matter to me, I would be doing my AP Bio homework anyways.

Swiping my skateboard from under the coat rack, I took the elevator down to the lobby. I said hello to the doorman, as usual, and once I was out of the building, I grabbed my bike and I was off. Moving fast down the sidewalk, I looked up at the sky to see what the weather was that day. Overcast gray, of course. It wasn’t looking up to be a great day today.

Once I reached my destination, I got off my bike and locked it to the rack before running with it into the building.

I looked down at my phone, tapping the screen to awaken it to check the time. Almost half past, this was not acceptable. I dashed down the halls, my satchel swinging and banging against my hip and my board pressed tightly to my waist, cutting into the skin. I didn’t care though, I could NOT be late to English, and Mr. Bret would never allow it. He was the worst teacher I had ever had, and probably will ever have.

I dashed down the hallway of my school. They were barren of life which meant that school had started and everyone was going, or had gone, to their classes. I flew down the locker bay hallway, skidding to a stop in front of my locker. I spun the combination on the dial and tried to pry open the door. It was stuck, again. I groaned an exasperated sigh and thumped my head against the metal box. This was just not my day at all. I pride myself off the door and recited the combo again, finely managing to open it. And all my stuff spilled out.

I was buried under a pile of textbooks and notebooks. (Seriously, why didn’t the school just switch to electronic, personalized desks already?) “Shit!” I swore in a clipped, frustrated voice. I stood up, which was kind of hard, and began to sort everything into my locker, stuffing the books I did need in my messenger bag which now hung heavy at my waist.

I glanced at my phone again, checking the time. One minute, not acceptable. Turning to my locker, I slammed it shut, (Not exactly my intention mind you) and bolted down the hallway, managing to burst through the door to my English class just as the bell rang. Not technically late, which was good.

“Cutting it a little close,” Mr. Brett said from his desk. I was only capable of taking huge, gasping, breaths instead of replying with a witty comment. I only headed to my desk near the back of the class. “Just don’t do it again.” He said after I didn’t respond. I slid into my seat, letting my messenger bag and board fall to the floor. I bent over to get my notebook out while the teacher stood up to go to the Smart Board, but he was interrupted by the morning announcements. After we recited the Pledge of Allegiance and had gone through the normal things, like the last Basketball game’s score and additions for the school musical, he started his lesson.

We were supposed to write a paper on a modern icon. Just great. After a few minutes of going over how to properly use Ethos, Pathos, and Logos, I zoned out. I daydreamed about what I would do after I left the school for the day. I would probably read Dr. Who fanfiction, watch Dr. Who with Eva, order pizza while watching Dr. Who with Eva, I guess you could say I was a little obsessed with Dr. Who.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, which means I was bored out of my mind. Even though this school was more science based and was meant for the smarter crowd, that didn’t mean it was any less challenging than a public school. It was annoyingly easy, which meant I had too much free time on my hands even though I did my homework. My dad had gone here as well, which I got a lot of crap for. Some of the older teachers would treat me like they treated him, expecting me to meet his standards, and sometimes casting untrustworthy glances at me. It wasn’t my fault he sometimes skipped out on class, and it wasn’t like I was going to be as smart, if not smarter than him. They just had to stop pressuring me to be a little version of him, even if it was the bad parts too. I wasn’t my dad. But I had more of him in me than I did my mom, so they said.

After the final bell rang with a loud buzzing sound that always annoyed me, I was free for the day. I rushed out of my math class, sighing loudly in relief. Then I heard a familiar breathing pattern behind me. Don’t ask me how I could hear people’s distinct breathing patterns; I had always been able to do it. Like I had always been stronger and have better senses than I should have which I realized quickly and managed to hide before anyone found out about it. But anyways, getting sidetracked, back to the story.

“Hey girlfriend,” I heard my friend, Eva, say behind me. I turned to see a bright smiling face framed by long, crazy, dark curls.

“Hey Eva,” I said casually, stopping by my locker to drop all of my stuff into it for the weekend. Even though she said “girlfriend” that does not mean we’re dating. Even though it was a totally normal thing for this generation.

“So what are we doing today?” Eva asked, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Nothing really,” I responded. “My parents are out for the day, meetings and working late and all, so I’m free for that Dr. Who marathon you’ve been planning.” Eva smiled a triumphant smile to herself while I pulled books out of my messenger bag to put in my locker.

“When do you have to be home?” She asked, twisting a strand of almond hair around her index finger.

“Whenever,” I shrugged, not being very specific. I closed my locker gently, or rather I tried to, but it still slammed shut anyways.

“Cool,” Eva said, walking away from me down the hall, expecting me to follow, which I did. “So we order take out or something around six-ish?” I nodded, brushing a stray hair out of my face and behind an ear. Turning to face me, she asked, “We walking or taking the bus back to my place?”

“I’m taking my board, but you can walk,” I said, pushing open the doors at the front of the school after a jerk decided not to keep them open for us.

“Fine” Eva sighed in a dramatic way, drawing the ‘I’ out for a while. We strolled past the stream of students filing out of the school and into the now sunny grounds. The warmth from the sun seeped into my skin and made me feel a little bit happier.

“I’ll see you soon,” I said, before throwing my board on the ground and kicking off down the pavement.

“See you,” Eva said, turning around to walk to her bus. She was the only friend I really had at school and she never took me for granted, which was what I liked about her. If we felt like having fun, we would watch something on Netflix or go out to ride our bikes in the empty warehouses around the city, something I got from my dad, or if we felt like studying, we would put our heads together and work non-stop until one of us fell asleep on a textbook. Serious and fun at the same time. Plus we kept each other’s darkest secrets, something I always loved about her.

The ride over to her house was uneventful, of course. I arrived ten minutes before the bus, so I just sat on the curb, fiddling with a strand of my hair. After she arrived, we watched our Dr. Who marathon until we ordered pizza around six, like I had predicted. Her mom worked late hours as a waitress at some club, I never really asked where because it never really mattered.

“So,” Eva said, plopping down on the couch next to me with the pizza box in one hand a two liter bottle of soda with two cups in the other. “Pepperoni pizza, soda, Dr. Who, no homework, what am I missing?”

“Boyfriends?” I suggested sarcastically, not moving my gaze from the screen. After a shared look, we both burst into laughter.

"I think we're just fine without them," she said, setting the food down. I picked up a slice for myself without filling up a cup of soda. I wasn’t thirsty yet anyway.

After a few hours I noticed the time. “Oh shit, I gotta go,” I said, standing up quickly. Eva almost choked on her pizza in surprise; maybe I was quicker than I thought.

“What?” She asked, managing to swallow the chunk that almost choked her.

“I don’t know when my mom will be back, and my dad’s working late, again. And if they get back early I don’t want them to worry,” I explained, gathering my stuff while I talked. I stuffed my arms into my jacket sleeves and pulled the hood up, because it had started to rain. It was pitch black outside now, seeing as it was about nine at night. It was going to take a little to get to Queens from here.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call them Elaina?” Eva asked as I strapped on my helmet. I sighed internally while I put my phone away in my pocket, hoping that the water wouldn’t get to it through my pants.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to,” I confirmed, opening the door. I felt the cold air wash over me as soon as I stepped outside. Maybe wearing a helmet wasn’t the best idea. It did have holes for air and if it was pouring this heavily, it just wasn’t the best idea. I took it off quickly and stuffed it in my slightly empty messenger bag.

“Ok,” Eva said, sounding unsure. “Just, call me when you get home, ok? I don’t like this weather.”

“Eva,” I said, exasperated. “I’ll. Be. Fine.” Then I walked out the door, unlocking my bike from the porch railing. Thank goodness it was still dry. “See you later,” I called, hopping on my bike and pedaling into the rainy night. I lived a couple of miles away if I took the long way, around the city and not through it. So I decided to go through, it was shorter and I didn’t want to deal with the rain for long.

I kicked hard against the rain, not really able to see with water droplets spilled into my eyes. _‘What’s the point of eyebrows and eyelashes if water still gets past them?’_ I thought to myself, huffing indignantly. My hair was plastered against my face, I was numb from cold, and I was wearing a cotton t-shirt while it was raining. I was glad when I finally pulled up to the entrance to my building.

Once in the building, my sneakers squeaked along the marble entrance hall, drawing unwanted attention to myself. Oh boy, look, the elevator was out of operation, again. Which meant I had to climb the twelve floors of stairs again. Fun. Annoyed, I climbed up the stairwell, which was steep and long, as usual. Finally I got to the door, and groaned when I realized that a stream of light was seeping out under the door, meaning someone was home, meaning I was late. Sighing, I pushed open the door and let the heat of the apartment wash over me before closing it behind me. “I’m home!” I called into the apartment, not sure who would answer.

“Hey honey!” My dad called back from the living room. I managed to hold back a surprised look when I heard him.

“Oh, dad,” I said before I could stop myself. I thought he was working late that night, then again, it was late. “Why are you home early?” I walked around the entrance hall and into the living room where he was sitting down on the couch, his hair slightly damp which meant he hadn’t been home long.

“I told you I was working late, it’s late,” he explained, leaning back on the couch. I nodded, twisting my lips into a plain expression.

“I just thought you would be home later,” I said casually, taking off my coat and hanging it on the rack. I ran a hand through my damp hair, un-plastering it from my face. It was cold to the touch, I would use a hair dryer later though. I walked over to the kitchen, slapping my feet over the cold tiles before opening the fridge, looking for some chocolate milk to heat up for hot coco.

“Why didn’t you call?” I heard my dad call from the living room.

“I didn’t think you would be here. You were staying late after all and mom wasn’t going to be home for a bit so I thought, ‘why not just get home before anyone else’.” I explained, pouring a mug of the chocolate liquid for myself before setting in the microwave. “I mean,” I started again. “When you say you’re working late, you normally don’t come home until, say,” I paused for a moment, thinking. “Early morning.” I used the kind term instead of rubbing it in his face. He never liked it when he was reminded of the fact that he stayed away from home much later than he liked, unable to properly bond with his family. He tried, which was what mattered.

I glanced back over my shoulder at him when I heard his intake of breath that meant he was about to speak. “You don’t have to make up an excuse, Dad.” I said quickly, before he could speak. I didn’t hold it against him, and I wished he would see that. But I guess it’s just a thing parents do when they feel like they’re not always there for the kid.

After an awkward silence that followed my words. Then microwave beeped loudly next to my ear, signaling that my coco was ready. I pulled it out and blew on it, cooling it down slightly, before I went to join my dad on the sofa, where he was “watching” the news.

I curled up in a small ball and leaned against his chest, my legs tucked up against my chest and my feet almost under me. I sipped my coco and we sat like that for a few minutes, the sound of rain tapping on the roof and the ambient noise of the T.V, just enjoying each other’s company. Then I decided to break the silence. “So I have a project in English I have to work on.”

I could almost see my dad’s emotional face, even though he kept it barren of any new emotion, I could practically hear his groan. He hated English class when he was in High School, just like I did now, but he still helped me when I needed it. “What’s it on?” He asked, a hint of strained tension resounding in his voice, inaudible to human ears. I smirked.

“Major icons of the twenty-first century and their impact on modern culture,” I said, adding extra diction for emphasis. I heard a long, whistled sigh exude from my dad’s lips. Yeah, it was a mouthful. “We get to pick who we’re doing it on,” I finished, sipping my chocolaty drink again, letting the steam cloud my vision.

“So who do you want to do it on?” He asked nonchalantly.

I thought about it for a minute before answering. I bit my lip and twisted it around, thinking hard. I had never really figured out who I wanted to do the paper on. Maybe an actor, one who really cared about modern happenings, or the president, seeing as he was a major icon. Then the words spilled out of my mouth before I knew I was saying them. “I think Spider-man.” I had no idea why I said it. I mean, sure I looked up to the guy. Who didn’t? Besides the media of course. He was only a hero, but what he stood for, protecting people over beating up the bad guys, that was what made him different; standing up for the little guy, making sure that everybody could be safe. It was what made him stand apart from say, Iron Man, the one man cavalry who took care of the threats and kind of forgot about the little guy.

I felt my dad stiffen a little under my back, just a little. I had no idea why. Oh well. “Well, I think I can help, but I’m not totally sure I’ll be that much help.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my coco, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of my mind.

“I just like what he stands for,” I said casually, leaning back against him. I felt him wrap an arm around me in a dad like way as I settled into him.

“I do too Pumpkin.” I let myself smile a little at his words. He always called me Pumpkin, like some daughters were called Princess, or others were called Sweetheart, I was Pumpkin.

“Is it possible you could help me? You were around when he started out. Maybe you have more insight on it,” I asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he smiled.

“And you promise you’ll help, you won’t stay late or anything?”

“I give you my word,” he said in a sarcastic, silly tone. I smirked, unable to keep a straight face.

“You better,” I smiled, biting my lip to force it down.

“Sure thing Pumpkin,” he said lightly, laughter creeping into his voice. He ruffled my hair in the way that annoyed me as I settle back into a sitting position again.

“Dad!” I complained in a silly voice, batting his hand away. He only chuckled and let it drop back into place around my shoulders. This was what I loved, playful banter with my dad while snuggling up on the couch drinking coco. Heaven, in a word. I sighed and rested my head against his thick, muscular, arms. Letting my tired eyes droop for what was meant to be only a moment, but turned into a nap, or rather, completely asleep. I remember hearing the door open, my mom and dad exchange words, maybe a kiss. I could tell my head was on my dad’s lap, his hand draped protectively over my side. I could feel the warmth from my mother’s breath and she pecked me lovingly on the cheek. And my dad’s strong arms picking me up, carrying me to bed. Then I was out, asleep before he reached the hall.


	2. Sometimes things don't always go as planned

“Elaina, pst. _Elaina!_ ” I heard someone whispering loudly behind me, then a poke in my back. I felt a tingling at the base of my head before it happened, another new, weird thing about me. I turned around stiffly, glaring sharply at Eva, who had been trying to catch my attention. My hand gripped the back of my chair, attempting to steady myself, not that I needed it, I was perfectly balanced. Weird.

“What?” I hissed back, hoping the teacher wouldn’t notice.

Eva said nothing, but handed me a slip of paper that was folded once. I took it gently from her grip and turned back around to face the front, letting my hands rest on my lap. I waited a moment for the teacher to turn around again to write something on the Smart Board before open the slip of paper and reading the note. It was so childish and old fashioned, unlike texting and sign language which I knew a little of. I looked down at my lap where I read the paper. It read, _Careful after class, Jaren might ask you out._

I turned around again for confirmation of what the paper said. I looked at my friend who only shook her head slightly and made a hand motion to turn around to face the front. I gave her a pouty look before turning around.

It was an ongoing struggle of the smarter girls at that school that they should be careful of Jaren Picard. He was, I guess, a player. He was devilishly handsome with a smooth act that always managed to rake in the girls. He was the most popular guy at school and somehow got all the girls even though there were rumors about why he dumped them so early.

I stared at the sixteen year old boy, his light brown hair threatening to cover his eyes in a shaggy haircut that made him even more attractive. Jaren Picard was the kind of guy that got the girls easily, have his way with them, and leave them for dead. The kind of guy girls knew to stay away from, but somehow still got them. I gave him a slight glare before turning back to my work, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

When the bell rang I gathered up my stuff, stuffing them into my binder and shoving it in my messenger bag. I took my time packing up, making sure Jaren didn’t stay after. Technically he didn’t, but he did hover in the doorway, keeping it open while students filed out into the hallway. _'Here goes nothing,’_ I thought. I stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder and lifting my hair out from under it.

I walked toward the door, trying to ignore him as I walked past, but no such luck. “Hey Elaina,” he said casually, draping his arm over my shoulder as I walked under it. He left the door to swing shut behind him, showing me that he was indeed waiting for me. I clenched my jaw and tried not to smack him in the face as he did so. Anger seeped into me as he slyly glanced down my slightly open shirt collar, thinking I wouldn’t notice.

“You doing anything after school today?” He asked, leading me down the cramped hallway.

“Yes,” I lied, trying to shrug his arm off. No such luck. “I have to study for a Chemistry test, and write a paper for English, so I don’t have time for any _extracurricular activities_.” I said bitterly. I glanced up at his face quickly to see what his expression was. It was smug, which only fueled my rage towards him further.

“That’s cool,” he said in a chill manner. I managed to shrug his arm off to get my locker open, clenching my jaw so hard it gave me a headache. “Maybe later.”

I turned around on him, wanting to slap him, but I held myself back, somehow. “How about never,” I growled, glaring fiercely at him. It made him back down a little. “Look, you may think you’re hot stuff, but you’re a dick. And definitely not the kind of guy I’m want to lose my V-card too. So shove off,” I spat, shoving him in the chest slightly so I could get away from my locker. I ended up pushing him a few feet back, making him stumble when I knew for a fact that I had lightly pushed him.

“Well fine,” he almost shouted, then under his breath, “Bitch.” I glared at him, watching him walk down the hallway towards his next class. Sometimes I hated men. I made a face when he turned his back and made my way to my next class, ignoring the staggered stares from the occasional student who had overheard the conversation. But I didn’t care about them, I had my own problems to deal with.

  
***

  
“I still can’t believe he asked you out,” Eva said, kicking at the wet pavement beneath our feet. School had let out for the day and we were walking over to a coffee shop we always went to when we weren’t going over to each other’s houses. It was a fairly common occurrence, coffee, study, home. I shrugged, looking down at the ground as well. It wasn’t like it was a big deal or anything, I wasn’t lingering on like her, of course she was the drama queen of our relationship while I was the logical, Spock one. “It’s not like you’re not pretty or anything,” She said, adding on to her narration. “It’s just, he doesn’t go after us commoners.” I nodded in agreement. I didn’t care though, and she knew that, but she was still bothered by the fact so of course she was going to talk about it. Not that I minded or anything, she was the talkative part of the friendship while I was the passive aggressive one.

“It doesn’t really matter Eva,” I said, turned to look up and at the cast iron gray sky. It hadn’t stopped raining since the night before, even though it had calmed down to a light sprinkle that I had to squint my eyes against.

“Whatever,” she said in a low tone that I wasn’t meant to hear. Sometimes sharper senses weren’t a good thing. “So you want to hang out at my place?” She asked after a bit. I shrugged and whipped a gloved hand across my face, whipping it of the droplets that had formed there.

“I have a paper to write,” I said, considering actually writing the paper I had told my dad about. “My dad said he’s help me on it, I’m holding him to his word.” I heard Eva snicker beside me, which I chose to ignore. “But I’m still going to the library anyways, I have to read ‘The Great Gatsby’ for English as well, and I don’t own a copy,” I complained bitterly. I sometimes hated how the school would assign us the books electronically and expect us to have Nooks or Kindles to read them on. I mean, of course I had one, a Stark Tablet to be precise, but I liked the feel of pages and the smell of old books, so of course I was going to check it out.

“So that’s a no,” Eva summed up. I nodded my head and kept staring straight ahead. We had almost reached the coffee shop.

“Yes, that’s a no,” I said, using a play on words to try to confuse her.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, opening the door to the coffee shop. I let out a laugh and followed her inside, letting my senses be overwhelmed with the smell of baking goods and ground coffee beans. I felt the temperatures change drastically from the chilly air outside to the warm, humid air of the shop. I loved the city sometimes.

“But seriously,” I said in a not so serious tone. “I do have to write this thing by next week.” She nodded in understanding, taking off her coat and draping it over a chair before sitting down in it.

“You getting the coffees?” She asked, tugging off her gloves and setting them on the table. I took off my messenger bag and let it hang over the back of my chair, pulling my hair out of the pony tail I had kept it in for the walk over.

“Sure,” I said, and walked off to get the order.

  
***

  
Almost two hours later we were walking home in the rain. It had started to rain heavier since we left the coffee shop and was a total downpour by the time we made it a block. I had my hood pulled over my head all the way, with my gloved hands making sure it stayed in place against the rough winds. Eva wasn’t wearing a hooded coat that day, so she turned up her collar and walked fast. I let myself smile at the sight of her hunched over frame. I sped up my pace to catch up with her, because she was almost a good ten feet ahead.

“You know Eva,” I said, having to talk louder against the wind. “It’s not like your house is going anywhere,” I joked.

“Yeah well,” she said, glances behind at me quickly so she didn’t freeze her face. “I would like to get out of this weather,” she spat, glaring up at the rainclouds. ‘Whatever’, I mouthed; making it clear that she saw me do it. She stuck out her tongue in response. To which I chuckled like my dad did whenever he cracked a joke.

“Hypocrite,” I heard her mutter under her breath. I got the feeling I wasn’t suppose to have been able to hear it, but whatever, it didn’t matter. “You hate the rain too.”

I was about to respond with a witty comeback when there was suddenly an earth-shaking boom. People screamed as the noise overwhelmed us, practically shaking the ground. My head snapped in the direction of where I heard it come from a split second before Eva did. I saw a skyscraper blooming with orange fire with a greasy black smoke cloud rising from it. The building had exploded. “Holy sh-“

Then the building collapsed. It happened so suddenly I hardly had time to react. I felt like I was watching the 9-11 footage again. Where the tower was impaled by the airplanes and no one could comprehend what was happening and by the time they did it was too late. After almost a minute of staring I finally came to my senses. I reached for my phone to dial 9-1-1 but then I heard the sound of a rocket whistling through the air. I flinched instinctively, ready to run for if need be. Then my eyes fell on the familiar sight of the Steel Soldier, the new and improved Iron Man. He came about soon after Iron Man’s death a few years ago. His suit was thinner and more sleek than Iron Man’s, and it had a clear faceplate with a piece that covered the mouth in a fashion of a gas mask. The screen could tint to a darker shade if wanted though, so no one knew who it was.

I watched as he flew away from the building, carrying something large in his arms. It seemed to drag him down slightly, whatever it was. Pulling out my phone to try and get a closer look, I saw it was somewhat humanoid in shape, but the shaky camera screen wasn’t helping. “What’s going on?” I shouted over the sound of sirens and screaming.

“I have no idea!” Eva shouted back, before running towards the building. I hesitated before following her, not sure if I should follow. I bit my lip, and then ran after her. My hood flew off my head, exposing it to the elements. I didn’t care though; there were more pressing issues to deal with at the moment. My legs pumped hard and fast, propelling me forward. My breath didn’t even come in ragged gasps like they always had when I ran that fast, come to think of it I was running faster than I had ever run before. I caught up to Eva and bypassed her quickly. She only panted behind me as she tried, and failed, to catch up.

“Elaina wait!” She called breathlessly behind me. But I wasn’t going to wait, I had to get to that building and see if there were people that needed help. I had never been one for heroics, but suddenly it was like something inside me had been awakened, and I knew what I had to do.

“ _Elaina!_ ” Eva shouted over the growing wail of the sirens. But I ignored her. I flew around the corner of the street and saw with horror filled eyes the image displayed before me. Fire, smoke, and death, that’s what met my gaze as I ran towards the collapsed building. Fire plumed up from the rubble, sending clouds of oily smoke soaring into the sky. I coughed a few times before continuing any further, my eyes watering from the polluted air.

I heard people swarming into the area. People were screaming and crying, I think I saw a child crying for her mother somewhere in the carnage. I had no idea what to do, I was sure several people had already called 9-1-1 so I knew I didn’t have to.

I heard the sirens approach, the people screaming, the fires burning. It was a lot to take in. “What the hell happened here?” Eva wondered aloud once she caught up to me. She was breathless from running and doubled over, clutching her midsection, probably because of a stitch in her side.

I would have responded with “my thoughts exactly”, but right then and there, there were no words to be spoken; nothing could be said. Like a lump in your throat that you just couldn’t swallow, it was just as hard to take in. I stared in awe at the flaming pile of rock and steel, shattered glass, and destruction. I was too shocked to speak, or even think. How could this have happened? It definitely was intentional. Explosions like that didn’t just happen.

“Move aside, move aside please!” I heard someone yelling behind me. I turned around and stared through the ever growing crowd of people, looking for the speaker. I found it in a fire fighter who was accompanied by his co-workers along with paramedics. They ushered everyone back once they breached the crowd.

I wanted to ask if I could help, but I knew they would decline. I started, biting my lip, at the large group of men and women as they went towards the building, fire hoses in hand and dogs on leashes ready to be set on the rubble. This was as bad as it got. This was the darker side of reality, the ugly side no one wanted to look at. This was also the side that only a handful of people stood up against. Like the Avengers, and firefighters, and police, those kinds of people, the people I aspired to be.

I brushed a strand of wet hair out of my line of vision which was scouring the rubble for signs of life, and failing to find any. I blinked away raindrops that threatened to spill into my eyes.

We stood there for a while with the growing crowds, watching, cringing every now and again from the sight. Ambulances and fire trucks kept showing up too, trying to aid in whatever way they could. As much as I wanted to help, there was nothing I could do. More and more people swarmed up to see it, gawking at the ruins. It wasn’t everyday a skyscraper just up and explodes. This would certainly be on every news station within the hour.

After a while, we decided to leave, and I walked back down the sidewalk with her. “Did you see the Steel Soldier right after the explosion?” I asked, my voice a slightly higher pitch than usual.

“Yeah, I did.” Eva nodded her voice strained and uncertain. “You don’t think he…?” She asked, making the connection between the two. I shook my head, doubting the circumstances.

“It didn’t look like he was fleeing, just, I don’t know,” I said lamely, trying to remember what exactly I had seen. “He looked like he was carrying something. Something big,” I added, remembering the sight of the large red thing in his grip.

“Yeah, I saw that too,” She said, seeing my expression. “Although I have no idea what it was.” I bit my lip at her response, something I did quite a lot now that I realize it.

“I’m guessing we’re going over to your place then?” I asked, changing the topic. She nodded. There was no way her mom was going to be able to get home with this traffic, plus it was preemptively decided that we would go over to one of our houses to watch the following news footage.

“Yeah, I want to know what’s going on,” she responded, gazing into the distance. Her eyes lingered on the smoke cloud that was billowing up from the building and seeping into the rain sodden sky over our heads. “And I want to get out of this weather.”

The “and away from this chaos” was left unspoken.

  
***

  
An hour and a subway ride later, we were seated on the couch in the living room of Eva’s house, now in dry clothes and each holding a mug of hot coco. I sipped mine and felt the hot liquid journey down my throat and into my stomach, warming my chest like fire. Eva followed suit and stared at the T.V screen. My eyes were glued to it as well, scouring the words at the bottom that announced what was going on. Apparently the Avengers and an unknown threat had battled it out in the building and a bomb went off (still sketchy on the details) which caused the collapse of the building. Still no word from any of the team members at the moment.

I gazed at the footage as it looped again. People dragging others out from the wreckage, others pulling blankets over the deceased, so on and so forth. Almost exactly like 9-11. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought so, but the fact that it was just a random skyscraper and not the twin towers made a difference.

“At least it wasn’t planned,” I said numbly, watching the reporter gag a little at the sight of a hopelessly mangled corpse. Eva slowly turned her head to face me with a look of ‘what the hell’ plastered on her face. “Well,” I started to explain. “If it was a planned attack then that means we’re not safe, it was an accident so it means we’re not going to war or anything any time soon.” My explanation was a little weak and kind of sucked, but I managed to get my point across to her.

Her face fell a little, a look of brooding replacing it. “If it was planned, don’t you think SHIELD would have found out about it and sent like, Captain America to stop it or something?” I shrugged, unsure and unable to answer. It wasn’t like I knew anyone in SHIELD personally, so I couldn’t say.

“Or something,” I agreed.

We sat in silence for a while after that, watching with mixed feelings of horror and disturbance as the scenes of destruction and carnage unfolded before us on the screen. I didn’t know what to make of it, I mean, it wasn’t every day a building was destroyed in New York. Well, it happened more frequently a few years ago, like ten or so. When the super-hero empire was at large and it seemed that there were super-hero’s left and right. Now we just had the Avengers, which consisted of Wasp, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Spider-man, the Steel Soldier, and Captain America. It was a strange assortment of people, it sometimes included Thor, but that was only when it was more than a New York threat, like when it threatened the entire “realm of Midgard” as Thor would have put it. The old Avenger team had consisted of Iron Man, killed in action a few years ago, the Hulk, who had retired due to stress and old age, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Captain America, and Thor. It had been a work in progress and was now completed, better, in my opinion.

I pulled out my phone when I felt it vibrate. I tapped it on with my finger, the screen recognizing my fingerprint and opening the menu. A message immediately appeared on the screen. It read, _Cming home, Mom_.

I let out a long sigh. It was around seven, so of course she was coming home. This meant I had to be home. She didn’t know I had decided to stay at Eva’s and would be worried if she showed up at home and saw no sign of me.

“I gotta go,” I sighed, standing up from my comfy position on the couch.

“Already?” She asked, crestfallen.

“Yeah, my mom will freak if I’m not there when she arrives,” I explained, gathering my stuff from where I left them scattered around the house.

“’Kay. Call me when you get there.”

“Might not have time to. Homework and all,” I said nonchalantly, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder. I pulled my hair out from under the strap and let it fall in wrinkled waves around my shoulders. “Plus my dad promised me he would help me on that paper for English, and I’m keeping him to his word.”

Eva nodded, understanding what it meant to me. Unfortunately, Eva never really got to know her dad. Her dad had skipped town when she was about two and left her mother with a low rate job and a toddler without so much as a small amount of money to help them at all. Totally rude in my opinion.

“Well, see you,” I called as I closed the door behind me. I waved goodbye to her through the window which she was looking through. She waved back and turned back to the T.V. My signal to leave. I hunched my shoulders against the wind, stuffing my hands in my pockets to protect them against the cold. I would ride the subway back to Queens, then walk from there. I didn’t have enough money for a cab. After I got off the train at my stop, I walked out onto the street, seeing it barren of cabs of any sort, so even if I had money, it wouldn’t have mattered. I sighed and walked toward the complex, which was almost a mile away. And of course it was still raining, yay.

Once I had made it up the (now working) elevator and reached my door, I noted that the lights were still on. I groaned audibly and forced my way forward. I was going to get grilled for this, no doubt about it. I checked my connecter screen and saw the time was half past, the subway must have taken longer than I had thought. I walked up the porch steps, remembering just last night that I had stuck to the railing like Spider-man. I let myself crack a smile before gripping the door handle lightly, running through possible scenarios in my head. I would go for the casual approach, act normal and hope they don’t get too mad. Before I opened the door, I glanced through the window of the door. Seeing nothing, I turned the knob and pushed it open with minimal force, but it still almost rammed itself into the wall, but I stopped it before that happened.

“Mom, Dad, I’m home!” I called into the seemingly empty space. I was about to call out again after receiving no response when I suddenly smelled something that shouldn’t have been there. It was a musky odor, underplayed with smoke and grime, like a dirty man. I could smell it was male of course, but the smoke scent made no sense. I paused, letting my ears absorb all the noises of the house, and they caught the sound of faint sobbing.

“Mom?” I called again, walking down the hallway and into the living room, where the noises were coming from. I saw my mom, standing there with a hand over her mouth and mascara running down her face, and an older man standing behind her. He looked like he was in his mid forties, or even late thirties, it was hard to tell he was so physically fit. He was blonde with blue eyes and had rather sharp features. He was dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, an old fashioned button down shirt showing beneath the jacket.He too had a look of mourning etched into his face, but it wasn’t as obvious as my mom’s.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, setting my bag down lightly against the wall. She didn’t say anything, just stood there and looked as if she wanted to go over to me, but held back.

“Elaina,” she whispered through her hand, her voice strained by her tears.

“Mom, what’s going on? Who’s this?” I asked, moving forward, towards her. She sniffed and wiped her hand under her eye, smearing her runny mascara across her cheek. I didn’t bother to reprimand her.

“Elaina, it’s Dad, he’s not- he won’t-“ She tried to say the words but they stuck in her throat, as if they were made of ragged glass shards and it hurt to say them. Instead she said, “Oh Elaina,” and draped herself over me in a tight, tearful embrace. I hugged back, a little hesitant. I was started to absorb her words, hoping they didn’t mean what I thought they meant.

I pulled away from her hug, looking her in the eyes. “Mom, what is going on?” My voice shook with fear, dread crept into me and I fought against anxiousness slowly seeping into my emotions. But before she could attempt to answer, the strange man stepped forward, almost hesitantly and explained.

“Elaina, your father, Peter Parker, is dead.”


	3. Sometimes life can’t suck any more than it already does

I had no idea what to think. This had to be a joke, it had to be. I stared at the man, not sure what to make of him. He seemed sad as well, and mom seemed to believe him so that meant they knew each other, maybe he worked at dad's’ lab? I opened my mouth to speak, and then closed it when I had no idea what to say. I just stood there, too shocked to say anything.

“What?” I finally managed to get out.

“Elaina,” my mom started, managing to speak. “There’s a lot I have to tell you about your father.” I froze up, not sure if I wanted to hear it or not. It had to be bad news, or else she wouldn’t be telling me.

“Okay,” I said, my voice shaking slightly from emotion. I stood there, ready to hear it. Well, I wasn’t ready, I don’t think I ever would have been ready.

“The first thing you should know about him is that,” my mom started, breaking down right before she said it. She held herself for a moment, trying to collect herself before going on. “Your father was Spider-man.”

I blinked. I stood there. I couldn’t believe her at first. I mean, my dad, Spider-man. Come on, such a load of BS. Then I remembered all the unexplainable things that had happened in my life. One of my earliest memories was of being woken up by my parent’s voices resounding from their room.

_I had gotten up to see what was wrong, hearing that their tones were more aggressive than normal. I had stood out in the hallway in front of their door that was open just a crack. I peeked inside to see my mom scolding my dad, who was dressed in a red and blue outfit that was stained in a darker shade of red that came off on the towel my mom was holding. I edged forward, not touching the door at all. “Peter, you really should have gone to SHIELD for this.” She said forcefully._

_“I didn’t want to bother them for something so little.” He responded, breathless and clearly in pain. He clenched his jaw in pain as she dabbed something onto his wounds. I heard my mom sigh, frustrated._

_“I just don’t want to die on me, is that too much to ask?”_

_I heard him give a dry chuckled, then wince in pain. My confused, three year old self stepped forward, wanting to know what was going on_

_“Mom?” I asked, looking up at her. “Dad?” All she did was smile, walk towards me, and pick me. Of course I could see her smile was strained and forced and that the worry lines on her brow hadn’t disappeared yet._

_“Let’s get you back to bed.” She said softly, and walked me back to my room._

I inhaled sharply.

_I walked into my house, setting my things down on the kitchen counter and walking over to the living room to watch T.V. I walked past the coffee table and noticed papers and files scattered over the glass surface. I glanced over them, noticing that they were plans for something. I looked closer, seeing that they resembled the web-shooters Spider-man had._

Before I could do anything, I heard my dad walk into the room, see me looking at the file, and a flustered look spread across his face. “Hey honey, what have I told you about looking at my stuff?” He scolded lightly, rushing forward to retrieve the papers.

“Well you just left them here- I can’t help seeing things that are just lying around.” I retorted hotly, upset at his reaction.

He sighed, taking a deep breath before responding, collecting himself. “I know, I’m sorry Elaina, it’s just a really important project. I can’t have anyone see it ok?” I nodded, still annoyed at his mistake. How could you just leave something so important just leaving around?

“Whatever.” I replied, storming off.

Remembering everything else that had happened over the years that pointed to him being Spider-man. Finding a torn piece of red fabric in the washing machine that looked like spandex or something, walking down into the basement in search for Top Ramen and seeing webs plastered all over the wall, and then were gone in a few hours. All the memories added up and came crashing over me like a wave of pain.

The sound of my mom’s sobbing brought me back to the present. And I did the only thing I could do at the time. I yelled at her. “What the hell Mom! How could you never tell me this before? When were you planning on telling me? Why’s dad gone?” My voice broke and tears welled in my eyes. It couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.

When she didn’t respond, I pressed further. “Mom!” The tears that had been pooling in my eyes finely spilt over and streamed down my face. “Mom please!” I begged, taking a step forward towards her. But she didn’t respond. Silent tears leaked out of her eyes and dripped onto the floor.

That was when mystery man stepped forward. “Elaina,” he started, but I interrupted him.

“And who the hell are you? How do you know my name?” Sure I admit it wasn’t the best first impression of me he got, but hey, when someone learns that their dad had just died and that they also happened to be a superhero, it gets kind of complicated.

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he explained quickly, trying to get to the point. “I work, or rather worked with your dad for a while, and I regret having to tell you how he died.” I stared at him; the now identified Steve grimaced and looked down at the ground. Like he hated being the bearer of bad news. “He died in the line of duty.” He said, almost like a soldier (well I guess since he was technically a soldier).

I said nothing for a moment, putting the pieces together slowly. I remembered the image of the Steel Soldier souring off away from the destroyed tower holding something large and red in his arms, and how none of the other Avengers were around for the collateral damage. “Oh God.” I said, covering my mouth with my hands. “Oh my God.” I repeated, tears flowing down my cheeks. Spider-man really was dead. And he was also my father.

“We were trying to fight off a threat in that tower, I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident by now…” I only felt more tears spill down my cheek. I remembered the smell of smoke tainting the air with it with its putrid odor. And the sight of the tower of rubble, bits of glass and metal poking out at odd angles. It was hard to believe when I had seen it and it was even harder to accept what had happened in it before hand. I wanted him to tell me it was a joke. I wanted him to say, “Lol jk,” but no, it was real. It had happened. My dad was dead.

  
***

  
I spent the night crying, not even sleeping. I just cried and cried until I physically could not cry any more. Then I just sat there, dry heaving and sobbing. I sat in my room, on my bed, the sheets stained with tears that I hadn’t bothered to clean off. It was so much to take in my body practically shut itself off. I only became aware of things when I saw light dusty rose colors lighting up the sky outside my window. I blinked back tears, even though they still came, and stared at my clock. It read 5:40 A.M. Another fit of sobbing overcame my body; sobs racked my form, vibrating the echoes of the force through my bed.

I sniffed and wiped a hand across my face, getting rid of the tears. I didn’t want this to be real. Just some dream, a nightmare. I would give anything for that to be the case. I pinched myself just to be sure, nope, not a dream. I cried some more, ignoring my alarm clock when it beeped annoyingly to try to wake me up.

In anger, I smashed my fist down on it to shut it up. How dare it yell at me, especially right then. I didn’t even acknowledge that I completely flattened it. Not yet anyways. I felt more tears roll down my cheek, dropping onto my jeans and making my knee cold. But I didn’t wipe them away. I hardly felt it over the storm that raged inside me, making my numb on the outside.

Longing for some sort of noise to fill the emptiness of the house, (my mom had gone with Steve to SHIELD headquarters to sort thing out) I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and shoved the ear buds in my ear. I turned the volume up to practically deafening. I usually turned it down to lower than necessary because of my sensitive ears, but I didn’t care right then, I wanted to scream in frustration, to cry my eyes out, to fall asleep and never wake up, to disappear into nothingness. So loud music sounded pretty good right then.

I pressed play and the first song that started playing was some depressing song by Imagine Dragons. It was an old song, but I liked classical music. All the music these days were songs that were electro techno with warped lyrics. It was ok if you were in a club, but if I was feeling any other mood then drunk and sexy (which I never was) I would listen to older music. The song didn’t make me feel better, just less alone.

I sat there on my bed, for hours, not even moving. Just letting the world spin on and everyone’s lives continue. _‘Except my dads’,’_ I thought bitterly, glaring at the wall. I slumped against the wall and tugged off my socks. I also pulled my now dry coat off, letting it drop to the floor. I could smell the heat from the outside trying to worm its way into the house. It was a sunny, early spring day, and it was just calling to me, except I was still stuck in the sodden downpour from yesterday. I rested my head on my knees and cried again, somehow finding more water in my body to do so.

I don’t know how much time had passed when my mom got home. It was early afternoon and the day looked bright and cheery, something I despised it for. Why couldn’t it be an inky black storm, with lightning and hail, maybe even snow?

I heard keys rattle in the lock and the door open. I felt the vibrations from my mom’s footsteps as she walked into the kitchen, where she sank into a chair and cried soft, quiet sob. Of course, with my senses the way they were, I could hear it all. I didn’t care though. She was sad too. I wasn’t going to call her out on it. I instead stood up and closed my door, which had been open all night, so she would know I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

It worked, because as dinnertime rolled around, there was no knock on my door to invite me down. Of course, I didn’t smell anything cooking ether. She had probably gone to bed early, something I envied about her. I felt tired as well, from staying up all night crying. But there was no way I could get to sleep. I lay in my bed, my eyes closed, my breathing shallow. But I didn’t sleep.

Instead I stayed awake all night long, again. My stomach growled actionably early in the night, growing in pain the longer I went without food. But I didn’t comply, and eventually I stopped being hungry. And that was the way it was for a week, until the funeral.

 

***

  
I was wearing a black dress for the funeral; it's layered silk buffeting in the wind. A white belt of fabric wrapped around my midsection, showing off my hour glass figure, not that I cared. My face was clear of tears for the first time in a week. Instead it sported makeup that made my face seem pale and frozen. The service had been shorter than I had anticipated. Only a few people gave speeches, including one Xavier Stark, son of the famous Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and of course, Iron Man. I didn’t know what his connection with my dad was; being the head of Stark Industries and all, apparently my dad had worked there and they were pretty close, which was odd seeing as he was eighteen.

My mom had given a speech as well; along with some other people I didn’t know who had approached me after the service to give their condolences. I hated them for it. I didn’t want their pity, I didn’t want their tears. I hadn’t said anything the whole funeral long. I had just sat in the pews and watched people give speeches about how great and wonderful a man he was. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to stop everything and rewind time just so I could be with him again. To snuggle with him on the couch and watch T.V together.To eat breakfast with him on a lazy Saturday morning. To hear him crack jokes at the dinner table. To just be with him, and see his smile light up the room, even though his eyes reflected echoes of sadness.

After the service they buried him. They wouldn’t open his casket like I thought they would, like they normally did anyways. But I didn’t think I could bare the sight of it anyways, so I didn’t mind terribly. After they covered the grave with the last bit of dirt, everyone went their separate ways, except me. My mom said she would go and get a cab home, trusting me to do the same. I was glad for her choice to respect my emotions. After she left, tears leaked out of my eyes again, rolling down my cheek and making my mascara run. I didn’t bother to wipe them away, knowing that the black color would smear across my face and only make it worse. Then my knees gave out and I sank onto the cold wet grass and let the tears flow freely, hiccupping sobs wracking my body. “Dad,” I sobbed, clutching at the soft, recently upturned soil. “Dad please don’t be gone, please,” I begged, talking to the headstone with its recently carved name on it. _It read Peter Parker, Loving Husband and Father._

 _‘It’s missing the Spider-man part,’_ I thought bitterly, sobbing more. “Please God; don’t let this be real, please.” I whimpered. I wished it was a nightmare, I wished to God it was a nightmare and nothing more. I hated the feeling of loosing someone, like part of me had been ripped out and could never be replaced, no matter how hard I tried. Like I had lost a limb, and nothing could ever make it right.

“Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes, not being able to bear the sight of the headstone. “Please don’t be dead.” And that was when I finally accepted it, my dad was gone weather I liked it or not, and he wasn’t coming back. There was nothing I could do about it either. And I hated knowing that.

“Didn’t think anyone would still be around.” I heard someone say behind me. I whirled around, standing up in the process. Normally an action that fast would have unbalanced me, but no, I was perfectly balanced even though I had turned 180*. The person who had spoken was none other than Xavier Stark, the billionaire.

“Hi,” I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, and failing terribly.

“Hi. I’m Xavier, though you probably already knew that,” he joked lightly, not really trying. I didn’t smile. “Well anyways, I thought everyone had left. Guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah,” I replied, bitterness sounding in my voice. “I just, I need so say a few things, before I leave.” I admitted, looking down at my shoes.

He nodded in understanding before speaking. “I understand,” he was about to continue but I interrupted him.

“Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

“Excuse me?” He asked, confused.

“Don’t say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, just don’t.” My voice cracked at the end with angry tears. I hated how everyone kept saying, ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. It was stupid, and I hated it.

“No, I wasn’t going to say that.” He said, stepping forward slightly. I looked up at him, staring him in the eyes. They were deep chocolate brown, like coffee in the morning. His face was fairly attractive as well, now that I think back on it. A slight shadow of stubble encircled his jaw line, making it more prominent.

“I was going to say I understand how you feel.” I blinked unaware that I wasn’t even crying. “My dad died when I was seven,” he admitted, looking down at his feet in unease. I remembered it in the news papers, it was all the over the media. Iron Man’s sudden death. It was a shocker to everyone. He had died in the line of duty, saving the world, again. He had taken the heat of a missile headed for who knows where. But it was a really big thing all over America. I was five at the time, but I remembered the headlines and pictures, and I felt for him.

“Yeah, I know,” I said stupidly, wincing at my words. “I guess both our dads died in the line of duty.” I joked bitterly, safely assuming he knew of my dad’s part time “job”.

“Yeah.” He muttered, trying to say it quite enough so that I wouldn’t hear, but I did anyways. I grimaced, realizing he had a more personal connection with him then I had first thought. Besides being the boss of where my dad had worked anyways.

“Anyways,” he said, not sure what to say. “Your dad's’ death wasn’t an accident.” That froze me to the spot. Was it planned? Who did it? And why wasn’t anyone else dead?

Seeing the look on my face, he elaborated. “It was a trap, set up for the Avengers, and we-they fell for it. Your dad saved… Them all by sacrificing himself.” I couldn’t help but hear the slight hesitations in his voice when referring to the Avengers, and when he had tripped over his words. Was he in the Avengers? It would be plausible, but strange, seeing as he was eighteen. But then again, my dad had become Spider-man at age seventeen.

I forced myself to breath steady, anger filling my body and driving away the sorrow. I wanted to take revenge on whoever killed him, wanted to see their blood pooling at my feet, their body mutilated from the torture they deserved. I fought back tears and forced myself to stand my ground, I was in the company of a billionaire after all.

But I stayed calm on the outside, even though the thoughts inside my head were a swirling storm of fire and rage. I took a deep, shaky breath. “Do you know who?” I asked, my voice still sounding tearful.

After a moment, he shook his head. “No, sorry.” He said it in a genuine way, like he actually felt ashamed for not knowing and letting me down. I bit my lip and nodded in understanding, not meeting his eyes when he looked up.

“Thanks anyway,” I said, my voice strained. I started to walk away from him, toward the road to call a cab. A gust of wind blew through the cemetery and kicked up my dress, making it billow in waves around my knees. After a moment I heard a rustling behind me that meant Xavier was trying to catch up to me.

“Hey, wait!” He called, rushing up behind me. I turned around and waited for him to reach me, his hair suddenly windblown and disheveled (it was actually pretty hot). “I was wondering, maybe you could stop by the tower sometime after school or something. There’s an opening for an internship because of, well, your dad,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Anyways, you could drop by and maybe we can have a conversation under more, happy, terms.” I nodded while he spoke, knowing that when he said “tower”, he was referring to the Stark/Avengers Tower which sat practically opposite the Oscorp tower, seeing as they were rivals.

“Sure,” I said, brushing a strand of auburn hair out of my face. “I’ll come by whenever,” I said, hailing a cab. “It was nice to meet you Xavier.” And I walked off to the cab that was waiting for me. He offered me a kind smile as I walked away. But it was a smile that was strained, and full of sadness that looked all too familiar on his face. I attempted to smile back, but I couldn’t, it hurt too much. Instead I half waved to him and pulled open the cab door, giving instructions to Eva’s house. I don’t know why I wanted to go there. I knew I owed her an explanation as to where I had been for the past week. Plus she would be pissed that I hadn’t even texted her for such a prolonged period of time. And I needed a shoulder to cry on, and Eva was the first person that came to mind. Mostly because I didn’t have a boyfriend.

  
***

  
I stood outside Eva’s porch, my coat hanging over my shoulders without my arms inside the arm holes. My arms were cold of course, but I didn’t notice, I was too wrapped up in my thoughts. I hesitated before rapping my knuckles on the door to her house. I waited a moment before I heard the familiar sound of Eva stumbling up from the couch and walking to the door. I heard the slapping of her feet on the hardwood floor as she made her way clumsily to the door.

I held my breath while I heard her hand grasp the door handle. The brass knob jiggled and the door swung open to reveal Eva’s curly hair that framed her sour looking face. Once her eyes landed on me, her expression went from one of angry, to livid, to confused, to shock.

“Elaina, what the-what-“ She struggled to find the words she wanted to use, but eventually gave up and ushered me inside, rescuing me from the cold of the outside. A few minutes later I was seated on the couch, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, with a mug of hot chocolate in my numb hands. A blanket was draped over my shoulders to warm me up too.

“Okay,” Eva said, sitting down across from me, crossing her legs and letting the couch sink a little under her weight. “Spill.” She said it in a nice voice, not a hard one that friends use sometimes when confronted with boy problems. I took a deep breath before speaking, not sure if I was ready to say what I was about to.

“My dad died.”

I waited a moment before looking up to see Eva’s reaction. I didn’t hear a gasp, or any breathing for that matter, so I assumed she was frozen in shock. I assumed correctly, when I looked up I saw her eyes wide, like tea saucers, and her mouth pressed into a tight line that stretched across her face in a red strip. “About a week ago.” I finished, making her even more shocked, if possible. I would have laughed under different circumstances.

“Elaina, how could not tell me? I’ve been pissed at you for a week straight and it turns out your dad died, do you know how guilty that makes me feel? You could have told me sooner, I could have helped you. Why would you not tell me sooner?” She ranted, her eyes glistening with the ghosts of tears. It was more a rant at herself than anyone, and I totally understood. So I let her vent until she had to stop to gasp for breath.

“You know that this is hurting me too, Eva,” I said, wiping away a tear that had leaked out of my eye. I hadn’t been crying as much than I had when I had first learned the news about me dad, but I still felt the occasional tear roll down my cheek. “And that’s not even the worst part,” I grimaced, my voice cracking again. I didn’t want to say the words that came out of my mouth, but I did anyways. “Because, after I find out about it, my mom tells me he was Spider-man.” My voice cracked at the end of the sentence, tears welling up in my eyes again. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye, so I tucked my head into the gap between my knees and sobbed, again. I heard her sharp intake of breath, like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.

“Are you serious?” She asked once I straightened up, wiping the tears from my eyes. I nodded, looking down at my feet. “And you can’t, stick to things, can you?” She asked, eyeing me warily. I shrugged, not sure how to respond. “And you don’t, I don’t know, shoot webbing out of your wrist?” I gave her the most ‘are you kidding me’ look I could muster in that state. “Just asking,” she said embarrassed.

“Well, I think I’m started to get his powers now,” I admitted, still avoiding her gaze by staring at my feet. “I don’t know why now though, it’s just sort of happening.” She gave me a look of, ‘can you explain that a little more’, and of I course I did. “I’ve kind of noticed that I’m starting to have like, this ability to stick to some surfaces, like, 90* surfaces, and I’m more flexible, and I can kind of see, hear, smell, and taste everything a little better than most everybody in the world,” I said quickly in a rushed and muttered voice. Eva only stared at me, my hands, and back at me, like she was trying to see the tiny hairs sticking out of my finger tips that Spider-man had.

“Ok, this is a lot to take in,” she said after a prolonged moment of silence. I laughed bitterly for a moment, remembering my initial reaction to learning the very same thing, except that I had broken down in tears and spent the following day catatonic, and the following week not leaving the house. I had lost a few pounds from not eating anything as well, which was weird seeing as all I did was stare vacantly at the T.V and sit in my room.

“I don’t think I’ve hit the limit of my potential though,” I said in a hollow voice. Eva nodded, her curly hair bobbing slightly from the motion. “And I’d like to find out just how far I can go,” I continued, my voice taking on a hard edge, the anger I had felt towards my father’s killer returning and fueling my body to punch something, or just scream at the top of my lungs and hopefully shatter a window. But I stayed sitting on the couch, my muscles not even twitching, except for my hand curling into a fist, my knuckles turning white from the strain.

“I want to help you E,” Eva said, using my old nickname. “But I can’t unless you tell me how.” I took a deep shaky breath, not sure if I wanted to speak.

“I want to find him.” I said, my voice shaking in anger instead of sorrow for once. “I want to find whoever is responsible for this and hit him where it hurts, like he did to me.” I never really specified what exactly I wanted to do, but Eva somehow got the message.

“Then girl,” she said in a brighter voice. “You’re going to need a suit.”


	4. Will it always feel this way?

After a month I had stopped crying and breaking down in sobs every time my father was mentioned. But that didn’t mean the anger or the sadness went away. And of course the city had noticed Spider-man’s absence too. The Bugle had made a fit about it, claiming that the Spider had finally abandoned the city and really was a criminal, other people had posted their conspiracies on the internet that he had died or skipped town or something crazy like that. I wished half of them were true sometimes.

Over the course of that month I had lost more weight than I could afford. I had lost the slight belly pudge that had accumulated over the years; it wasn’t natural anyways so I didn’t feel weird that it was gone. But that also meant that my ribs stuck out a bit, and my cheekbones were more prominent, with a slightly sunken look to my face. I simply looked unhealthy. I had skipped too many dinners, eaten not-enough for breakfast, and nibbled on my lunch far too much. My appetite had simply vanished after he died. I know I should have been taking better care of myself. He would have wanted me to. But it was hard enough just to get out of bed let alone take a shower, or make something to eat. Hell, even homework was hard. I just didn’t care anymore.

But after all that time, I had fully developed my “powers”. I could stick to walls, had unparalleled senses, super-strength,, and something I call spider-sense, it was a buzzing at the base of my skull that really can’t be describe so I’ll just leave it up to your imagination. I had decided to become an anti-superhero. Not a superhero, like I wouldn’t go out of my way to save people, but I would go out of my way to stop criminals. I didn’t know who I was looking for though, and that was the problem.

But so far, I hadn’t actually done anything, just plotted and brooded. I had made a costume scheme consisting of a debatable color choice. So I was going to go shopping with Eva that night, just for the basic fabric before I made an actual suit. I was going to be going out in a hoody and jeans wearing boots that consisted of the fabric I was going to be buying. It was so that I could stick to walls with my feet. I would also be wearing gloves that I could use for the same purpose. To hide my face I would have to pull the hood up over my head to hide my hair and a bandana across my face and probably sunglasses to hide my eyes, even though it would be night. What a weird way to fight crime when on a budget.

So that afternoon I rode the bus home to my house with Eva in tow, intending to just swipe a fifty dollar bill from my mom's’ secret money stash, (which she thought I didn’t know about) and leave. But that was not to be the case.

I opened the door to my house, surprised to find it unlocked. “Mom?” I called into the house, my voice resounding back to me.

“In the kitchen!”Came the reply. I managed to hold back my surprise by biting my lip. I cast a sidelong glance at Eva, who shrugged guiltily.

I walked around the corner and saw my mom leaning over a cookbook, a slight frown creasing her brow. She was at it again with the cooking. I bit my lip again when I saw it. I was used to the sight of it of course, but normally she was making the meals for three, not two. My face fell when I remembered, but only for a moment, I put on a fake cheery expression before addressing her again.

“Hey, so Mom,” I said, leaning on the counter with my hands in a very teenager way. “I was wondering if I could have fifty bucks.” I said it casually and hoped she wouldn’t think anything of it.

“What for?” She asked, peering at a line of text.

“We were thinking of going shopping. You know, to cheer me up,” I replied, my voice tainted with a darker hint of sorrow. I bit my lip again, something I did a lot I’ve noticed, and hoped she would say yes.

“Sure, you know where the money is. But be home by eight!” She warned me as I made my way to her bedroom where she stowed a little extra cash for a rainy day. “Hi Eva,” she said sidelong to my friend. Eva responded with a meager “hello” and remained quite. I grabbed the fifty dollar bill and dashed out of her room, trying not to look at her bed and how one side was completely barren while the other was wrinkled and covered in old tissues. I left the room feeling more depressed then I had been upon entering.

Fifty dollars in hand, I trotted down the stairs and landed gracefully at the bottom, jumping the last step. “Ready?” I asked Eva, who was leaning on the counter and looking at the little grains in the white marble. She snapped to attention immediately and a smile spread across her face.

“Sure thing,” she said, hoisting up her backpack.

“Ok, bye Mom, love you!” I called, opening the door to the house and practically slamming it behind me (completely unintentional). “Ok, cab or subway?” I asked, my messenger bag whacking my hip as I walked down the sunny street.

“Cab, I don’t trust subways much,” Eva said as she jogged towards the main road to hail a taxi down. I shrugged. I didn’t terribly enjoy the subway ether. It was always crowded and noisy. Not a good fit for me.

After we hailed a cab we managed to make it to a fabric store that was used often by cosplayers. I stepped out of the cab and paid the man his money, which was my own seeing as I didn’t want to waste my mom’s spending money on something as domestic as a cab.

We spent the afternoon sifting through different colored fabrics, comparing one to another and comparing cost and worth against one another. After a while, we figured the color scheme would be black and purple with wide white lenses, a scrunchy tied into the mask somehow for a pony tail to come out of, (Because let’s face it, who wants to be wearing a mask with long hair for over an hour at a time?) and a symbol of sorts. It would be a spider that had a diamond shaped body with crescent pincers on the top, long spindly limbs branching out from it. The four top arms would wrap around to the back while the two bottom ones would just go down the side. From the thumb to the elbow would be purple as well, leaving my fingers black like the rest of the costume. A belt of purple color that ended in an arrow shape would wrap around my waist, thin lines of purple going down the side and widening at the bottom to make a boot (the soles were black).

But for the moment, I was stuck with a second rate outfit we had thrown together that night. After we got back to her place with all the fabric needed, we went over the fact that it would take a while to make and I couldn’t wait that long to go crime fighting. I had already made that one at home using a purple bandana to hide my face, a pair of sunglasses, a black hoodie, and a pair of leggings. I made black boots with purple rim that would allow me to stick to walls with my feet as well. After I brought the make shift costume to Eva’s house to work on, we sewed the logo on the front and back, adding some barely visible purple web designs branching out from the spider.

At around two in the morning, I finally decided to call it a day and head home, texting my mom ahead of time so she wouldn’t worry. It was a chilly night, seeing as it was now December.

I sighed as I strolled down the sidewalk, scuffing my shoes on the pavement. My mom hadn’t texted me back, she was probably asleep anyways. I wasn’t tired though, so I took the long way home, which was through the city. I don’t know why I did it, I just felt that I needed to go that way, call it a sixth sense (or seventh in my case).

The city was lit up like fireworks in the night, tall steel spires reaching into the black heavens, sprinkled with glowing amber color from windows. I wanted to climb a building, to see the glowing streetlights below. I found what I was looking for in a rather old stone building with gargoyles near the top. Looking around the empty street to make sure no one saw, I jumped up onto the stone face and started to scale it spider-style. I still hadn’t gotten the whole sticking-to-walls thing under control so I slipped a couple times on the rough surface. I have to say, it was the weirdest feeling of my life, climbing up a 90 degree surface. Of course I was strong enough to do it, but it felt weird.

I reached a stone gargoyle, refusing to look down. I hopped up onto it, settling into a crouching position on the stone nightmare. I unlaced my boots, deciding it would be safer barefoot. Then I looked down. And what a sight it was. I had chosen a rather all building, one with a good view. I could see all the way to the Hudson and East. The Empire State Building glowed brightly in the distance, shadowing the Chrysler building further away. The sound of life and cars resounded from the streets below, steam coiling up into the sky like souls escaping to heaven. If this is what it felt like to be Spider-man, no wonder my dad never quite.

At the thought, I remembered that he had web-shooters to get from place to place with. I could just jump pretty far and stick to things. Not exactly an ideal traveling technique. Maybe I could manufacture some web-shooters myself so I could crime fight, not that that was what I intended to do anyways. I needed to find my dad's’ killer, find whoever made me and my mom suffer.

My hands clenched into fists, turning my knuckles white. I glared at the New York City skyline, knowing that somewhere out there, somewhere in this city, was the man (or woman) responsible, and I would find them, and make them suffer. Turning my wrists outward, crouching lower and staring into the city, I felt a strange feeling in them, like something was being removed. Confused, I stared down at them, not able to see clearly what was wrong in the dim light. Grabbing my shoes, I jumped down onto a balcony a few floors down, letting the light from the streets wash my body in its amber glow. Staring at my wrists, I saw short pointy lines protruding from each one, like a bee’s stinger. _‘No,’_ I thought, _‘a spider’s.’_

They were dark in color, and not too long, about two inches, protruding from the middle of the wrist. I flexed my wrist back, and they slid back under the skin like they never existed. I poked the spot where they had disappeared, feeling the bone hard consistency of them showing me that they were still there. _'So I’m more spider than I thought. Yay.’_

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a distant scream from below; a group of thugs was cornering an innocent girl, wielding knives and guns. I groaned internally, why did there have to be people like that in the first place? If you wanted money get a job, if you wanted sex, go get a hooker or. My head whipped around, my hair covering my face for a second. I looked down into an alley where a group o something. But some people were just dick heads, and some of those dick heads only used their names sake.

Curios, I slunk down the tower, moving silently and keeping to the shadows. I felt the slight buzz in the base of my skull that meant danger, so I knew these guys meant business. “Ain't no spider going to save you now girl,” one taunted, moving towards the woman. She, in defense, pulled out a can of mace and sprayed him in the face, turning to run away, and not getting very far.

“ARGH!” The guy yelled in pain, clutching his eyes while trying to stop her. One of his buddies ran after her, catching her around the waist and hauling her back towards the group. She screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to warn people of her attackers for help, or maybe because she was terrified.

“Gotcha bitch,” I heard him hiss venomously, covering her mouth to try to mute the screams. I watched in anger as they pinned her against the wall, tearing off her coat and shirt with hungry greed. They were going to have Hell to pay.

“Hey bo-oys,” I taunted in a song-sing voice, lowering myself into their line of sight, but still staying out of their reach. They looked up, startled, searching for the owner of the voice. I smirked to myself, I had the upper hand.

“Show yourself,” one hollered after failing to spot me, being very unoriginal, and stupid. “Coward!” he added when I didn’t show.

“Hypocrite,” I called back, now in a different location, confusing them. They whirled around, looking for me again, and failing (again). I had a lot of witty comebacks saved up for bitter scenarios like this and I intended to use them, just like my dad (I must have gotten that from him too).

“What are you, a bug?” One asked into the darkness, staring at a spot a few feet away from me.

“Something like that,” I responded, sounding snarky and bitchy. “But not quite.”

They all glared silently around, not saying a word, but one whispered to another, “I thought the boss said the spider was as good as gone.” The comment struck me like a blow. Someone had planned this, someone was defiantly responsible for this, and they controlled a lot of people too.

“Yeah, said he wasn’t showing his webbed face for awhile.” He muttered back, trying to be quite enough so as I wouldn’t hear. But I did. I launched myself off the wall, grabbing the man who spoke by the collar of his shirt and hauling him up against the wall into the darkness so he wouldn’t see my face.

“Who said?” I growled, my voice dangerously livid. The man look scared shitless for a moment, his mouth gaping and his limbs flailing. The guys beneath him called out in fright and shock, unsure of what to do, letting the woman escape unnoticed as well (not my actual intention but hey, I’m not mad about it). “Who. Said?” I repeated in a lower, darker voice.

After a moment he complied too my demands, realizing I meant business. “The boss, King something-or-other, I don’t know,” he spluttered. I pressed him against the wall, trying to squeeze more information out of him, unknowingly sliding my stingers out of my wrists. “Please, please, that’s all I know. He controls the crime of the city, he works the underground, please, I don’t know anything else.”

I glared at him, not that he saw it, and decided he was telling the truth, however much I loathed admitting it. Snarling in distaste, I dropped him roughly on the ground and jumped up onto the opposite wall and climbed up it, anger fueling my motions. I heard the man gasp in pain as he hit the cool cement, hearing a slight crunch that was probably his tailbone. A small flicker of satisfaction sparked inside me, at least he got what he deserved. _‘And I got what I wanted,’_ I thought bitterly, remembered his words as they bounced around my head. _‘King something-or-other, I don’t know.’_

My brain responded to the memory, filling in what I thought should be there. _‘King Pin.’_ My mind filled in the blank, not knowing how I knew it. But I knew that he was dangerous, and he did control the crime of New York with help from other villains for hire. He had tried to destroy Spider-man many a time, never revealing himself whilst doing so, but I knew, and now he was on my list. He would regret the day he rid the world of the web-slinger, and I would make sure of it.


	5. Plans

It was raining, again. The gray skies dumped their unwanted condensation down upon New York as people hurried to the cover of their buildings or schools. I had missed the bus that day because I slept through my alarm clock and in turn had to ride my bike. It was going to be a great day I could tell. I pulled my hood up so the rain wouldn’t destroy my hair which I had worked so hard to straighten (it was naturally straight but when wet it curls). I stuffed the auburn ponytail under my hood and gripped my bike handlebars, pedaling against the wet wind. I was soaked within the first few minutes. _ 'P.E is going to a blast.’ _ I thought sarcastically, the rain forcing me to squint my eyes.

Once I made it to school I had about five minutes to spare, which I managed to use quite efficiently, and got to class, sitting through an hour of a lecture on the use of underlying subtext that was in all honesty the most boring part of my life. Then it was off to science.  I hated Biology to the core of its being. I loathed the textbooks with their stupid unrelated picture of some weird kaleidoscope on the cover. Sighing, I opened the battered textbook and wrote notes while the Biology teacher lectured us, all the while dreading next period, which was P.E. And of course we had it outside. Never mind the fact that it was raining, no, we had to get out and get some fresh air in our lungs, which I thought was abuse on some scale, not that I really cared all that much.

Our P.E teacher had been there ever since my dad could remember, which was saying something. And he had been there years before that. He was in his mid sixties, still refusing to admit he was old. He wore sweat shirts and weird jogging shorts all the time, even when it was boiling hot or freezing cold. A shock of wispy white hair sat atop his head, which he slicked back in an old fashioned manner. That was Mr. Rail.

The locker rooms stank of perfume and deodorant as I walked in. Seeing as my nose was sharper than everyone else’s it hit me like a blow to the gut.

I made my way over to my locker where my gym clothes sat, ruminating in the stench of the locker room. I recited my combo into the old lock and yanked it open, frowning at the sight of my wrinkly blue and white shirt covering my black shorts. I only grabbed my shoes and shorts, seeing as I would be wearing my coat and no one would see the shirt anyways.

I reluctantly pulled my jeans off and exposed them to the freezing air. I pulled the basketball shorts over them quickly and rubbed them together for friction. I wasn’t the only one doing so. Amanda, the girl next to me, was pulling her sweatshirt over her head, her gym shirt wasn’t even on, instead she sported a pop punk shirt. Pretty much everyone was wearing a coat of some sorts over their normal clothes, too lazy to change. Which is probably why Mr. Rail announced we would be playing dodge ball inside, knowing full well everyone wasn’t wearing their P.E shirts so we wouldn’t be able to take off our coats.

“Alright, up against the wall everyone!” He shouted, once we had all filled into the gym and had ran our five minutes. Panting, we all went up to the wall, already uncomfortable warm from our jog. Pairs of friends stood one person away from each other, wanting to be on each other’s team. Meanwhile, I walked to the end of the line, standing next to some scrawny kid with wire glasses, a spitting image of my dad at this age. I leaned against the blue mat that stretched across the wall, letting my head souk in the cool feeling of it.

“Alright,” Mr. Rail yelled. “Dodge ball teams. Count off!” He started at the other end, counting off in fours. I would be a three. Once he finished, he yelled, “Alright, ones and three’s, to the left, two’s and four’s, to the right!” I heard a chorus of groans as people realized they wouldn’t be with the people they wanted to be with. I smirked as I watched the popular squid broken up and separated.

“Okay, you know the rules,” Mr. Rail said, spreading the foam balls across the midway line in the center of the gym, letting them role aimlessly across the waxed wood floor. “Catch the ball, whoever threw it is out and one of yours gets to come back in. Get hit by the ball, you’re out. Get hit in the face, you’re still in. Any questions?” Nobody spoke, but stayed still and uncertain. “Okay, on my whistle.” He held his metal whistle up to his lips, breathing in deeply before letting the shrill sound blast.

Even though I’ve never been one for sports, I was off, ready to play. I wanted to prove myself in my physical prowess. I dashed forward, rushing to the nearest ball I could see. I could hear the others behind me, the popular girls and other girls hanging out in fear in the back. They would screech whenever a ball flew within ten feet of them, their reaction time incredibly slow. It was painful.

I grabbed the ball with my fingertips, knowing it would stick. I looked up quickly, my hair falling away from my face just in time to see everyone almost to the line. I chucked the ball at the nearest person, landing it squarely in his gut, throwing him back against the ground. I hadn’t even used much force in the throw. I backed up quickly, getting ready to dodge the coming onslaught.

They were slower than I thought they would be. Only the boys and a few girls grabbed balls from the line, chucking them randomly at anyone they saw, which was mostly me. I turned to run back to get another ball, ducking under one that flew over my head. I grabbed one from the ground that had rolled their and stood up and rushed back to the front line, skipping away from a boy who was in the way. I felt the buzzing in the base of my skull that meant danger. My body knew what to do before I did and it reacted. I jumped, twisting elegantly over the ball that whizzed by beneath me. I threw the ball I was holding at where the person who had thrown it was, praying it would hit them. It all happened in less than a second, but my mind was faster than everyone else’s so it felt longer.

I landed neatly on my feet, perfectly balanced, and heard the ball I threw hit the guy who I was aiming at in the crouch. I also heard the shocked gasps from everyone else around me. One kid on my team swore a profanity that I will not repeat. I guess having part spider DNA really helps.

“What in the-“ One kid swore, unsure how to react. I didn’t think about his words, I only aimed a ball at him and it hit dead center as well. Now the other team knew I was dangerous, and were starting to back up. Maybe I should have been a little bit more subtle with my powers, but hey, when you have awesome powers like this, it’s kind of hard not to use them.

“Get her!” The other team shouted. I couldn’t help but smile, brushing a stray strand of hair out of my face. They were rallying and aiming at me, sloppy, hardly aimed throws were thrown and would have missed anyways. But I couldn’t help myself, I was having fun. Like a ninja I dodged all of them, not even moving my feet, just my body, and boy did it feel good.

After forty minutes of running around and getting hot and kicking ass, the couch finally let us go into the lockers. We filled in, everyone casting me weird glances, untrustworthy glances that said, ‘what on earth’. I admit, it wasn’t such a good idea if I wanted to keep it a secret. But at least I hadn’t broken anything, like my dad had.

Yeah, it was going to be a great day. Not.

 

***

 

“So you going out tonight?” Eva asked, leaning against the wall with a soda in hand. We were at my house, working on my costume. My mom was out late working that night, so we could finely go to my house and work. I was working on sowing in the eye lenses, which were wide, white leaf shaped lenses that gave me a wide peripheral view, very helpful of course when fighting.

“I think so, but I need web-shooters sometime,” I said absently, pulling the needle through the fabric again. I felt my spider-sense flare slightly before I yelped in pain, my finger having just being punctured by the needle.“Shit,” I swore, sucking on my finger. I should have seen it coming, with the spider-sense and all. Eva laughed behind me.

“What are you sleeping beauty or something? Pricking your finger on a needle?” She teased, sipping her soda.

“Except that sleeping beauty pricked her finger on a spinning wheel and this is a sowing needle,” I retorted, licking the small drop of blood off my finger. She snorted a dry laugh. I stuck out my tongue at her, making her sneer in response. I had no idea why we were still friend if all we did was poke fun at each other.

“Anyways,” I grumbled, tossing the now finished mask to her to see if it would pass her judgment. “I need some mode of transportation. And I’m not very original when it comes to that kind of stuff,” I admitted, leaning back on my chair, hearing it squeak annoyingly.

“Meh, I’m not very good when it comes to that kind of stuff ether,” she conceded, turning over the black mask to look at it from all angles. Her expression turned to one of mildly intrigued as the mask passed her criticism.”Maybe you can make some form of web-shooters like your dad,” she suggested, tossing the mask back to me. I caught it with ease, thanking my new found abilities because I would have never been able to catch that before spider powers.

“It’s not like I can make them though,” I argued. “I don’t have the money or the materials.” It wasn’t that I wanted to argue with her, I just wanted to consider all possibilities, even if they weren’t that good. She frowned, biting her lip, lost in thought as she considered all the possible ways I could make web-shooters or any other form of transportation.

“Didn’t you say something about Xavier Stark offering you a spot at Stark Industries?” She asked evenly, her brow still scrunched up in thought.

“Yes,” I responded, not sure where she was going with it. Her blue eyes looked over at my hazel eyes ones, her face breaking out into a grin.

“I bet Stark has all of your dad's’ old work there.” She wiggled her eyebrows, like it was an inside joke. Then I realized what she was saying. Stark Industries had the best technology money could buy, doubled with all my dad's’ work on file, it would be perfect, and the CEO had practically asked me to come work for him, giving me access to all the equipment there.

“Yes, yes he did.” I smiled, reaching for me phone. I had a call to make.

 

***

 

“Miss Parker,” the receptionist called. I stood up hastily, finger combing my hair in a rushed manner before a door behind the receptionist slid open, revealing the young, (and if I dare say handsome) owner of Stark Industries. His hair was disheveled and the stubble on his jaw was a bit more prominent. He was wearing a sharp looking suit that didn’t seem quite right for him. I mean, sure he looked amazing in it, but he looked like he didn’t wear them all the time.

“Elaina, nice to see you again,” he said formally, walking up to me. I offered him a quick smile, sticking out my hand hesitantly to shake. He followed through with the offer, smirking slightly at my awkwardness. “Like father like daughter,” he muttered, thinking I wouldn’t hear. I let him think I hadn’t.

“I’m here because of the possible internship,” I supplied, standing up straight. I was wearing my nicest looking clothes. It was a shirt/dress that went down to my up thighs, with long tube socks coming up to meet them in inch away. On top of that I wore a nice leather coat, not my normal one, which was battered and worn. All in all I looked respectable and sharp, but not official and intimidating. I probably couldn’t look like that even if I tried, not that I wanted too.

“Yeah, I know, we talked about that on the phone,” he said, looking me up and down. I bit my lip nervously, holding my breath while I underwent his scrutinizing. Then he coughed, shaking himself from his reverie. If I wasn’t mistaken I would have thought he was ogling. “Well, shall we?” He gestured to the door he had come from. I nodded slowly, following him as we passed through the office.

Once we left, he walked me down a long hallway that was next to the windows looking down into the city below. I couldn’t help but gawk at it. Xavier must have seen my expression, because I heard a chuckle in front of me. I bit my tongue so I didn’t say something snarky.

“So,” he started. “You’re a sophomore at Midtown?” I cocked my head to the side. How did he know that?

“How did you-“ I asked, but he cut me off.

“Your dad talked about you a lot. Bragged really.” I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he told me about that science project you did freshman year, brought it up here to be perfected. It’s still patent pending.” Oh, wow.

“You’re making my radio frequency tracker into an actual Stark Invention? And I don’t get any say?” Xavier shrugged.

“I mean, Stark Industries does get the credit. But I’ll always know you came up with the idea.” I blushed at his praise. If I had known a month ago that the owner of SI knew about me, and borderline respected me, I would have fangirled so hard someone would have thought I was having a seizure.

“So, I take it you were close with my dad?” I inquired.

“I guess you could say that. He was kind of like a second father to me, you know, after my dad died.” I nodded in empathy. It was still a sore subject for me.

“So you’ve taken over SI now?” I remembered reading something in the papers about it. When he was eighteen he took over the company.

“Yeah, my mom’s a great CEO and all, but it’s pretty stressful.”

“Mom?” I asked, confused. Pepper Potts was the old CEO of SI, passing it down to Xavier when he came of age. Everyone knew Xavier was the son of Tony Stark, but nobody really knew who his mother was, except perhaps SHIELD. They knew everything.

“Yeah, didn’t you know? Pepper’s my mom. She was married to my dad.” I shook my head. “Did your dad never talk about this?” He asked, furrowing his brow.

“No. He was very tight lipped,” I responded, accenting the T’s and P’s. He only hummed in response, leading me around a corner and into an official looking office. He sat me down in a hard chair in front of a high tech desk, which he sat behind.

“So, I do have an opening for an intern, but I must warn you that many people have applied. So you’re going to have to convince me that you’re right for the job.” He bent over behind his desk, pulling out a form. He slapped it on the desk, giving me a crooked smile.

“So, you want me to apply?” I summarized.

Without dropping his smile, he said, “Well, seeing as I can’t legally hire you without it…” Realizing what he was saying, I let myself smirk. He wanted to hire me, but he couldn’t do it without an application form and an interview.

“So, is this an interview?” I asked testily. His smile widened. He was cheeky, just like his dad I bet. I had never met the man, but I had seen news headlines.

“That depends, are you applying?”

“Yes,” I said in a firm voice. I sat up straighter, lifting my chin up.

Then, in a light hearted, well mannered voice, he said, “Good,” he sat back, letting his CEO/boss façade drop to one of a normal nineteen year old boy. “So, you start on Friday, after school.”

I had to let his words sink in for a moment, shock making my mouth unhinge and drop an inch. “Wh-what?” I asked. “Just like that? You’re not even going to ask me about my credentials? About my experience?” He shook his head, kicking his feet up onto the table and crossing them, while leaning back in his chair.

“You are sixteen, right?” I nodded. “Then you’re legally allowed to work here.”

“O-okay then,” I said, absorbing his words. I was hired. Just like that. I mean, it was a dream come true really. Once collages saw that I worked at the Stark Tower, my future would open up for me. Not to mention the fact that I now had access to all my dad's’ work so I could make web-shooters for myself, which was the original goal anyways.

“No problem,” he said, motioning to the door, a clear sign for me to leave. “See you Friday. Don’t be late!” He called as I walked out of the room. I smiled back at him before closing the door.


	6. A Night Out

It had been a few hours since the interview, and it was time for my night-shift to start. I had been tracking down the King Pin for a few weeks now, with no new leads. All I knew was that I had to get to the crime scene before the criminal had fled, which wasn’t easy. Especially since they couldn’t take me seriously with my patent pending outfit. It wasn’t my fault I was wearing a hoodie, jeans, boots, and a bandana. I wasn’t stupid enough to leave fingerprints though. I had gloves. And sunglasses of course. Nobody had seen my face.

So I was wandering around New York, waiting for my spider senses to start ringing, when I heard police someone shout from below. I stopped mid-jump, clinging to the brick face of the building. I heard the sound of raised voices coming from a convenience store, followed by the sound of a gunshot. I flinched in shock, before coming to my senses and jumping down off the face of the wall.

I dropped into a crouch, my fingers grazing over the pavement as they sat there for balance. The sound of people shouting resumed and filled the night. I snuck forward across the street, keeping to the shadows. Before I entered the store, the sound of the alarm went off, making me wince. I had only a few minutes to get the information I needed.

Booking it, I ran into the shop, bursting through the door in front of three burly guys wielding guns. I was hesitant at first, but then I remembered my spider senses had my back. “Hey boys,” I said in a fake cheery voice. The all frowned at me, as if they expected it to be a joke.

“You lost girl?” One asked, stepping forward threateningly.

“Well, you can help me with directions,” I said easily, standing in a non-threatening posture.

“To where?” He asked, narrowing his eyes, his hand hovering over where his gun sat in his belt.

“To the King Pin.” I said, my voice hardening. My stance turned ridged. The men noticed this, seeming to recognize the threat.

“Who are you?” Another man asked, clutching his gun. I felt a faint buzzing in the back of my head, alerting me of the danger present.

“Somebody you really don’t want to mess with,” I warned. Then I felt my spider senses flair up, telling me to jump. I followed through and jumped up onto the ceiling, sticking to it with my feet and hands as I heard the sound of a gunshot. I back flipped off the ceiling, sticking my wrists out and jabbing the nearest man with my stingers. They didn’t kill, just stun, like a teaser.

“What the-“ One of the men yelled. I dodged another bullet. If my math was correct, there were three men, nine bullets each assuming they all had full magazines when they arrived and had now fired three shots between them, which meant they had twenty-seven more rounds before they ran out. God I hoped I detained them by then.

“Hey, get her!” Another man shouted. I jumped over his head, grabbing his gun out of hand and pulled out the magazine, tossing it across the now ruined convenience store where it slid under a refrigerated case. I followed up by jumping up and kicking him in the chest with both feet, dropping back onto my hands and springing up backwards, like Black Widow.

I looked up to see him completely winded, coughing and muttering curses at me. I didn’t stick around to listen to them, because I swung a roundhouse kick at another guy, clipping him in the jaw and sending him sprawling across the floor. He crashed into a shelf of junk food, making it rain plastic wrapped crap all over himself. I quickly lunged for his gun, breaking the barrel in half and throwing the pieces away.

I was about to head for the last guy when I heard the sound of the safety being taken off a gun. I froze, listening for more noises. I heard the sound of heavy breathing behind me, meaning that the gun was being held to my head. Oh joy.

“Alright, no more games,” he said, pressing the nozzle to the back of my head. Everything stopped. I could hear his breathing behind me, heavy and labored. My heart beat loudly in my ears, my spider-sense ringing loudly inside my head.

“Then tell me where I can find King Pin,” I said in a level voice.

He chuckled dryly, shifting his stance. “Not a chance.”

My spider-sense flared up, telling me he was about to pull the trigger. So I did the only thing I could do. I whipped around, batting the gun out of his hand with my left, and sucker punching him in the gut with my right. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and I grabbed his head and head-butted it with mine. Then he fell to the floor, unconscious. But still, ow.

That left one man, who was cowering behind a stack of Slim Jims. I stood up slowly, forcing myself not to rub my sore forehead. I was glad I had a thick skull, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to bruise. “Hey, you!” I called. The man flinched, cowering further behind the rack. I rolled my eyes. For a hired gun, he was pretty lame.

“You know King Pin?” I called. He shook his head. “You know where I can find him?”

“I don’t know, but I know someone who does,” he said quickly, all of his attention focused on me. I walked over to him slowly, making him back away quickly, stumbling over himself in haste.

“Who?” I asked in a low, growling voice. When he didn’t respond, I bent down to his level and grabbed his shirt collar, bring his face closer to mine. “Who?”

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking around to see if there was any escape options. “I don’t know a name, but I know an address.”

“Alright, spill,” I ordered. “But if you’re setting up a trap, or feeding me false information, know that I will hunt you down, if it is the last thing I do,” I threatened. It was a partial lie. I wouldn’t hunt him down, but I would still be pissed to say the least. I expected nothing less from him anyways. These lowlifes couldn’t be trusted. Not if you didn’t pay them enough. And even then.Which is why I was bluffing my ass off.

“A warehouse, in the Bronx,” he stuttered. He continued to give me an address, which I made a mental note of. After he was finished, I let him go and stood up.

“Thank you,” I said in a fake sweet voice. Then I punched him in the head, knocking him out cold. The police would find him like that later and clean up. I had left a mess after all. But it was collateral damage. Couldn’t be helped.

I walked carefully through the desecrated convenience store, stepping lightly over shattered bits of glass and stray snack bags. I wasn’t going to steal from the place, even if the stack of Milky-Ways looked extremely tempting. I was tempted to pull my hood off, seeing as I was baking underneath, but I kept it on. If somebody saw me in the street, they could I.D me, plus it was possible that I would have left D.N.A samples for forensics.

As I walked out of the store, I took a deep breath in, looking up and down the street carefully. I didn’t see anyone anywhere, which was good. But the faint buzzing in the back of my head said differently. I looked around again, trying to see the dark street through my ski goggles. I really needed to finish up my costume, this was a nightmare! Then the buzzing increased to a warning blast. I arched my back backwards like a gymnast, sticking out a hand knowing it would catch whatever had been aiming at my head. Something whizzed by and my hand closed on something thin. I caught a long shaft of an arrow, the tip being a short, sharp needle attached to a small vial of liquid.

I whirled to the rooftop the arrow had come from, seeing the vanishing silhouette of a presumed Hawkeye. I narrowed my eyes. What the hell was he doing shooting tranquilizer darts at me? Assuming that’s what it was anyway.

I didn’t stick around to find out; I booked it, heading down an alleyway. His arrow was still in my hand when I got home.

 

***

 

“Eva, this is an E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y. You need to get here ASAP!” With that, I hung up on the phone, throwing my E.P onto my bed. The arrow was sitting on my desk. I had scoured every inch of it looking for anything that might suggest anything but SHIELD. So for I had found nothing.

I had just called Eva to get down here so I could tell her what happened. It was three in the morning, but I was wide awake. Eva hadn’t been, but after I had explained the dire situation (As best I could over the phone line) she had been pretty awake. Now all I had to do was wait thirty minutes and she would be here.

As predicted, thirty minutes later, there was a knocking on my window. She hadn’t gone to the door because it might have woken my mom up. And when we were kids we had made paths up to each other’s windows for circumstances’ such as this. I rushed to the window, throwing it open quickly.

“What the hell Elaina,” she hissed as soon as she was inside. I shut the window as quietly as possible as she crossed her arms. “You barely told me anything, what am I doing here?”

I took a deep breath before explaining. “Okay, so you know how I’ve been doing some pretty illegal stuff,” I said, referring to my vigilantly work. She nodded with an air that suggested she was rolling her eyes. “And now I’m on SHIELD’s radar,” I finished.

Eva remained silent for a long moment, the only indication she wasn’t a statue being the repeated blinking of her eyes. “You are in such deep shit,” she muttered at last. I bit my cheek nervously, twisting a strand of hair around my finger. I watched as she sat down in a chair, pulling her knees up to her chest, looking at my expectantly.

“And you know it,” I muttered, sitting down heavily on my bed, the frame creaking in response. I turned to her, unable to think coherently from all the things swirling around in my head. Most of them were panic, which made my heart beat faster than necessary.

“Okay,” Eva finally said, sitting forward and clasping her hands together. “What we need to do is think this through.” She paused. “Why would you be on SHIELD’s radar?” She finally asked, looking up.

I shrugged, forcing myself to take deep calming breathes. It wasn’t every day I got attacked by an Avenger.

“Maybe you’re just on threat-watch,” she proposed. Maybe she was right, but I just didn’t believe it.

“I don’t think SHIELD sends Hawkeye after people on threat-watch,” I deadpanned, my eyes shifting to the arrow lying on the bed. Eva frowned, and then noticed the arrow, and her eyes became saucers.

A long moment passed without anyone speaking. It was as if someone had pressed PAUSE, and it didn’t seem like either of us were willing to press PLAY again. “Oh,” she said, breaking the silence. “This changes things.”

“No shit,” I breathed, staring at the shaft. It was black, with dark rubber feathers on the end, presumably so as not to be seen. Ingenious really, presumably made at SI. Of course almost everything of SHIELD’s was made at SI. What with a least two people with viable connections to the Avengers working there, it wasn’t a surprise. ‘Now three,’ I thought seeing as I was an intern after all, or rather, I would be on Friday.

“So what do we do?” Eva said, voicing my thoughts. I only shrugged. We would figure something out. We always did.


End file.
